The Ohio Democrat. (Logan, O. [Ohio]) 1886-1906, 1887-02-05
THE BOSS F" DEATH.
Why He Died In the Arms of Poor
Bill.

Bill
at can't be-no, it couldn't be-for
him to die!''
He was all alone in the hut. He sat
on u packing-case, staring into the fire,
his elbows on his knees, and his head
on his hands, talking to himself, rs
solitary men will. There was gloomy,
helpless pcrplcxity in his look, as he
thrust tho burning brands together
with the toe of his boot, and muttered
over again-"Boss a-dyin'!-no, nor
A stray stock-rider had passed by
that afternoon, on his way to distant
station, and brought the news from
Barangaroo. 1t was Murdoch, of
Borangaroo-Lennox Murdoch, who
lay dying-slowly dying in torture
helplcssly crushed and manglcd by
falling tree as he was overseeing some
tmber-cutting in the bush. The man
whose gay fcarlessness was the wonder
of the colony-who had ridden un-
harmed time after time through the
very jaws of death-the reckless, way
ward, fantastic soul, to whom mortal
danger was as familiar friend-whom
every one loved and laughed at-so
full Of life and Joy in life. Why, the
very thought of his dying was impossi-
bic and incongruous-a least it seemed
rs if the only fitting close to such
career would be swift, sudden stroke
to be snatchcd away in moment,
with the laughing light still in his eyes,
and the last snatch of a song still lin
horrible, for Lennox Murdoch, Of all
men, to be lying on his back in the
darkened room, with closed eyes, and
drawn, white lips. So thought his
overseer, who had carried him upstairs
in his arms, and laid him tenderly down
on the bed he would never leave again
feeling all the time, grave, quiet
Scotsman as he was, as if his own
heart would break. So thought
though they could not perhaps have put
it into words-the men who hung
gloOmily about the doors, or listlcssly
went through with their work-silently,
or speaking in hushed voices to each
other. There might have been better
men-there were certainly many far
more judicious, and, with better
regulated minds-whereas, the CEN
serious might have said that Len
nOx Murdoch's mind was not regulated
at all; but there was not shepherd, or
hut-keeper, or hand of any sort on the
station that would not have given any
thing to shave Murdoch round again in
good tearin' temper" as one of them
said. No, they would never hear his
wrathful harangues or his reckless
'chaff" again. And this man who
now sat over The fire. this great black
bearded, half-savage, heather English
man had heard the news with stolid
apathy, and scarcely said a word.
Perhaps the idea took long time to
reach that slow-moving brain of his.
After the stranger had gone he slung
the billy and set the tea to boil. and got
all things ready as usual for his mates
when they should return-and then he
settled down to his brooding watch
over the fire, muttering broken words
to himself.
He was not man of many ideas
that was apparent at the first glance.
Probably he had not started in life with
an excessive amount, and his experience
as an ordinary seaman on board various
small merchant vessels, and later as q
convict in Sydney, had not tended to
increase or elevate his stock. But once
he had acquired notion of any sort,
he clung to it, or it to him, with the
tenacity of the limpet on the rock.
do not think he remembered himself
what offense he had been transported
for. Perhaps many years of solitary
bush life had effected his memory, and
its dull uniformity deadened the past
into one blurred blaze. Like that of
the savage, his mind did not look after,
nor very far before; yet utterly inactive
he was not. He did think and
reason in his slow, dogged fashion.
He was not cunning, nor naturally
cruel, though his ship and prison life
had generated in him dull, brooding
ferocity that sometimes came to light in
outbreaks of fury. And the highest
idea his mind was capable of conceiving
was embodied in the words Murdoch of
Barangaroo.
This is how it came. He had grad
ually become possessed of vague be-
lief that it was the destiny and normal
condition Of man to be sworn Mt, cuffed,
kicked and generally considered q nui-
sancc, unless it were his happy lot to
be able to swear Mt others in his turn;
and acquiesced therein in his dull, pas
sive way. And SO, when his time was
out, and he set forth on his aimless
wandcrings, he drifted out to Baran-
garoo station with "convict'' written
on every line of his slouching figure
and sullen face. And 1t came to pass
one hot December morning that he
stopped listlessly by the door of Muir
dochs shsaring shed and saw man